


After it All (We're Still Here)

by folieadunit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folieadunit/pseuds/folieadunit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written right after the season three finale. What should have happened on-screen, but didn't. Our leaders are tired, everyone is alive, but even they need rest and they find a moment of relief with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After it All (We're Still Here)

She’s alive.

Not just Clarke, all of them, they’re all alive.

For once something the two of them had a part in didn’t end with either having to end a civilization, or stain their hands with more blood than anyone would have thought possible.This time he has to watch his little sister walk away from him. 

“Bellamy…”

But she is still here. She is still by his side. Clarke won’t leave, not again, he knows that. Her voice is so tired, collapsing in on itself because after all that had happened since they landed on the ground, since they became partners, destroyers of worlds, they still would not able to rest in her mind. For the second time that day she reaches for his hand and squeezes it. It anchors him in reality again. Something else is coming for them and they need to be ready. But they can’t, neither of them can, not right now. They need rest. They need each other safe and within arms reach. 

“Clarke,” the breath of her name has to claw its way out of his swelling throat as he turns to her, “whatever it is that you saw in there, whatever it is that we need to do we are going to get through it together. Our people, our friends are alive. For now we are okay. We need to rest.”

For a moment it looks like she’s about to protest. Rest is not a concept to her. Every moment is life or death and as long as she’s fighting he will too.

Tears well up in her eyes as they flicker across his face and she bows her head. Her shoulders slump and her grip loosens as she nods. Brave princess. God, if only he had known how much weight that would end up holding.

“I -” she starts and lifts her head. She looks so lost and he never wants her to think that she has to run or that she has nowhere to go. She is his home and Bellamy is hers. They both know that now. He lets go of her hand to cup her face with both instead. Her eyes slip close and she bites her lip to keep it from trembling when he steps into her space and kisses her forehead while his thumbs brush away drying blood.

At the sound of her choking back a sob he slips one hand around her back, holding her to him to take some of the weight away, anything to help.

“I’m right here. We’re okay, Clarke. You’re not alone,” he murmurs into her hair over and over as quiet sobs begin to roll out. He feels the pressure behind his eyes release as the shock begins to wear off, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” he feels more than hears as her face presses itself right above his heart. 

He doesn't know how long they stand there, but they end up sitting on the steps curled into each other before the throne. Clarke is in his lap, arms wrapped around his frame like a vice as she shudders, attempting to keep her tears at bay, and tries to calm down. They won’t move for some time. He smooths his hand over her back and keeps her head pressed to his chest with the other. His nose is buried into the curved of her shoulder and hair. It is life, not death that brings them together.

He hears her soft, heart-wrenching apologies, a string of “I’m so sorry” and “You’re okay, you’re here, you’re alive.” He knows it’s for herself as much as it is for him. She knows by now that he will always forgive her, but he lets her cry it out. They both need it, they will always need each other that way too. Without one the other falls. 

“Can we go home,” she says into his neck and her grip tightens on his shirt.

His laugh is weak and watery, “Yeah, we can go home, Clarke.” His presses a kiss to the top of her head as he cradles her to his chest, not ready to let her go, not ready to walk away from one nightmare and into the next. But they have each other.

She reluctantly begins to pull herself away, but not before he feels her lips press against the juncture of his neck making his head and heart swim.

She is still here and right now that is what matters to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for The 100, and I've really missed writing this kind of work :) Please contact me on tumblr at folieadunit or leave comments below! Thank you, much love and feels!!


End file.
